


Lover Of The Light

by blackandorange



Series: Homeward [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angry Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bokuoi tension, Choking, Drunk Sex, Fluff, Getting Back Together, I wish I could know how to tag fics properly, M/M, POV Oikawa Tooru, Pining, Rich Bokuto, Smut, Teasing, basically this all what this fic is about, because he deserves all the money in the world and why fucking not, because yeah, have a good read, not so past at the end of the day, past Iwaoi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackandorange/pseuds/blackandorange
Summary: “Do you think you could find it? You know...better than you had it?” Bokuto asked cautiously, and even if Oikawa didn’t have the guts to turn around and look at him, he still could picture his lost expression, with his big owl eyes still roving like boiling honey running down his spine. 

  Oikawa dropped his eyes down to the floor and sighed, his back still turned to him. “I’m not sure if I truly want to find it out,” he said in a whisper of a voice.
In which Oikawa misses Iwaizumi, Bokuto misses Akaashi and the universe decided it was a funny idea putting the two lonely souls in college together.
Spoiler alert: the idea wasn’t actually funny, but it turned out it was so many other things instead.(A - slightly too long and maybe too painful - prequel to Golden).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Even if this is not a Bokuoi fic (...or is it?), if it wasn't for [Nat's](http://natroze.tumblr.com/) Bokuoi art the idea of writing this probably would have never crossed my mind. So thank you and keep blessing and dragging us into the Bokuoi hell.

In person, Bokuto Kōtarō was exactly like Oikawa had seen him on television months before: a 6'1" tornado made of muscles, boldness and beaming smiles. For a lover of the night like Oikawa was, looking at him was almost as painful as looking directly at the sun.

In the evening of their first day of college, they’ve both been summed by the volleyball team’s coach, for an introductory meeting reserved just for the two of them. It was the same old story about how long and successful the history of the team was, all the great players that passed through, a never ending praise of the modernity of their facilities and so on. If he was trying to impress them, he didn’t succeed. Oikawa was wearing his most obvious bored mask, while Bokuto seemed way more impatient to play than anything else. Chances were that he wasn’t even actually listening to him.

 “This is every coach’s dream, having the best setter and the best spiker of the country together in the same team. I’m expecting great things from you guys,” their new coach said, placing one firm hand on Oikawa’s shoulder and the other on Bokuto’s. He looked between them with a strange, almost predatory, smile that instantly made Oikawa feel uneasy. He was too smug and self-satisfied, his eyes shining with the awareness of having finally hit the jackpot. And, in truth, he really had.

Despite not having even stepped onto the National’s field, Oikawa won the best setter award, news that came to him as unexpectedly as it came to anyone else. The same could have been said for the scholarship that guaranteed him access to the best university in the whole of Asia and meant he could finally fulfill his childhood dreams of playing volleyball and studying architecture.

Bokuto, on the other hand, was Fukurodani’s former captain, the National’s winning volleyball team, and that was enough for every single university to open their doors and welcome him with fireworks and red carpets. He did just what Oikawa would have done in his place: choose the best and fuck the rest. Maybe he was smarter than he appeared to be.

“Since you guys both ended up in the Engineering department, we assigned you a double room apartment that you're going to share from now on. Practice starts next week, so you can use your free time to bond and work on your...sync.” The coach gestured vaguely between them, while flipping through some papers.

“Sick.” Bokuto gave a sidelong glance to Oikawa and then just smirked, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I know you both have the reputation of being the king of the court, but I won’t tolerate any power tug of war between the two of you,” the coach said, voice deadly serious and with an expression that did not leave any room for complaint. “You can be the best in your role, but that won’t be enough to survive. This is not highschool anymore, here you’re just freshmen and I demand a completely professional attitude and full collaboration with the rest of the team. Are we clear?”

For the first time, Oikawa and Bokuto fully turned their heads to look at each other, an unspoken but still more than clear conversation running between them. Bokuto narrowed his eyes and watched Oikawa intently. There was something strange inside that golden stare, like a dark twist that Oikawa couldn’t place.

“Yes,” they nodded together, reluctantly tearing their stare away from the other to look at the coach again.

“Good,” he said with a pleased grin, “and welcome to Tokyo University, boys.” With a hint of a nod, he dismissed himself and silently left, leaving them alone in the massive gym.

Oikawa let out a deep breath. Having a coach able to go from warm and welcoming to intimidating in the span of a couple of minutes was an issue he needed to fix. He never liked unpredictable people and, more than anything, not a single coach had ever dared to speak to him in that tone, let alone threaten him. Their coach obviously still hadn’t figured out who he was actually dealing with. He would, in due time, Oikawa was more than sure of that.

“Oikawa!” Bokuto called him with his thundering voice, throwing a ball from the end of the gym, which Oikawa promptly caught. “Toss for me.”

It wasn't a request. It was an order. Oikawa clenched the ball in his hands, curling his long fingers around the leather fabric. With a look of unconcealed annoyance, he proceeded to rhythmically throw the ball above his head, higher and higher with every hit. He was openly teasing Bokuto and testing his temper at the same time.

“Please..?” Bokuto impatiently stomped his feet on the floor, making a loud squeaking sound.

Oikawa glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He didn’t need more time to study Bokuto, he already knew which kind of tosses were the best for him. It was a mental exercise he always did, watching a random spiker playing and imagining how to get 100% out of him. Oikawa did that for the whole length of the National’s final game, carefully keeping track of Bokuto’s every move. He and Akaashi, his former setter who of course he researched as well, were incredibly in sync and seemed to know each other’s movements and intentions without even needing to verbally communicate. A strange thing about Akaashi was that he seemed to be there not only to bring out Bokuto’s full potential on court, but if felt like he was somehow protecting him too. From what and why, Oikawa couldn’t tell.

When the game ended, Oikawa wondered how how a god-like spiker like Bokuto would have done without his Akaashi, if he would ever find a perfect dynamic like he had with him again with someone else, since fate made Akaashi a year younger than Bokuto and his task was now to remain in Fukurodani a year more to fulfill his duty as its designated captain. Oikawa might have expected anything, except becoming himself the one who was going to take Akaashi’s place on court. Funny move, universe. Really, really a funny move.

Bokuto was still watching him, body ready to sprint and eyes full of hunger and anticipation. Oikawa threw the ball above his head once more and, without warning, he tossed it in front of him. Bokuto took no time to react: he ran, jumped and spiked the ball on the other side of the net with an ear-splitting sound. It wasn’t perfect, but yet it felt surprisingly good, almost natural.

“One more,” Bokuto said, with a wide grin of satisfaction lighting up his face.

And so, it began.

  
=

 

Just a couple of weeks had passed but Oikawa already had enough of Bokuto. He was the messiest, loudest, and overall the most annoying person he had ever met. His life schedule was absurd and he lived like time wasn’t something that applied to him too. Oikawa wasn’t even sure the guy ever actually slept, since he was always awake, no matter how late at night or early in the morning it was.

Also, his eating habits. Bokuto decided he was in charge of the house’s grocery shopping and so he filled their apartment with every kind of food, from fresh fruit, to tons of meat and vegetables, but also with an impressive variety of junk food, especially ice cream and chocolate. And the most awkward part of it was that he never cooked anything. Not a single thing. Taking pity at all the food that was going to waste, Oikawa started to prepare extra little portions of every meal he cooked for himself, putting them in the fridge since Bokuto was never home when it was a proper time to eat. He was now used to finding the empty plates scattered around the kitchen the day after.

Another awesome feature of Bokuto was his lack of a sense of personal space, which forced Oikawa to lock his room every time he was away. More than once, he had found him spread on his bed, flipping through his sketchbooks. Bokuto said he was there because he really liked them, he even said they could have hung them around the house, but Oikawa just yelled at him in return. And Bokuto never seemed to get why Oikawa was always so annoyed with him. In truth, he didn’t even try to argue back, he just fluttered his eyelashes making puppy dog eyes, whining like the spoiled child he was. Oikawa was so unaccustomed to his reactions that he often just dropped the subject all together, leaving the house and slamming the door behind him.

In all of this, it was still a mystery which major Bokuto was attempting to graduate in. For sure, and thank God, it wasn’t architecture, since he never saw him during lessons. When Oikawa had the horrendous idea to ask, Bokuto said he was giving him five guesses and five only, which he could use during the three years of college. Exasperated, Oikawa never went back over the subject and, most of all, never tried to guess.

Another thing he learned was that Bokuto wasn’t a fan of quiet places, so Oikawa started to spend all his free time in the library, sure that he would never find him there. And that’s exactly where Oikawa was headed when he emerged from his room, not giving a single glance towards the main room.

“Where are you going?” Bokuto called out, voice loud over the sound of the video game he was playing.  

“I’m going out,” Oikawa said flatly, hand already on the door handle.

“No, you’re not,” Bokuto said, pausing the game and walking to the fridge. He extracted a black cherry popsicle and started to suck on it.

Oikawa just looked at him, blinking a couple of times, wondering what he did to deserve a life like this. “I'm not taking orders from you, Bokuto,” he said, shooting him a challenging look.

“But it’s Tuesday...” Bokuto pouted, lips so red and swollen from the ice that Oikawa found himself unconsciously staring at them.

“And…?” he managed to say, looking away from him. Damn, what was wrong with him?

“On Tuesday we have yoga!” Bokuto beamed, pointing at Oikawa with the popsicle.

“I’m pretty sure yoga isn’t on our off-court training schedule,” Oikawa sighed, openly rolling his eyes. He had given up on hiding how much his behavior was getting on his nerves on day one, but, as always, Bokuto didn’t seem to care.  

“Of course it’s not. But it’s good for our bodies and minds and we are gonna do it regardless.” Bokuto ended the sentence with a little nod. Apparently the guy was unable to speak without giving orders. His former teammates deserved an award for tolerating him that much.

“That’s really not my thing. You’re a big boy, I’m sure you can manage to go alone.” Oikawa dismissed him with a wave of his hand, making his way to the door again.

“Akaashi always came with me!” he heard Bokuto say from behind his back, pinning him in place with his sudden serious voice.

“I don’t know if you got the news, but I’m not Akaashi,” Oikawa said without turning.

He knew this moment would come. He wondered so many times if Bokuto ever compared him to Akaashi, especially now they had started to practice together. Because he did, a lot. If it would have been natural to compare Bokuto to Iwaizumi - his former spiker, his former lover, his former almost everything - Oikawa noticed his main concerns were actually aimed towards Akaashi.

Oikawa knew the key to his talent was to bring out 100% from each spiker, even if that person was the massive annoyance that was Bokuto Kōtarō, and the only person who managed to do that was Akaashi himself. It was his personal challenge to outdo his work, especially since Bokuto happened to change his attitude completely as soon as he stepped on the court. He was still hard to handle sometimes, but he always appeared incredibly present and focused, making a big effort to blend in with the other players and to find a perfect sync with Oikawa. In those moments, when he saw Bokuto spiking, and spiking and spiking, every time harder and higher until he was out of strength, Oikawa was able to see why he was the best ace in the country. The contrast between their relationship on and off court was truly mind blowing.

“Come on Oikawa! Don't be boring! I already bought everything you need, look!” Bokuto insisted, throwing something that hit Oikawa in the middle of the back.

It was a dark, quite heavy duffel bag. Inside, Oikawa found a thin but fluffy mat, a long grey tank top, a hoodie and a pair of galaxy printed leggings. Everything was new and, all together, must have cost a small fortune.

“I heard you like space...” Bokuto said, hooking his chin on Oikawa’s shoulder.

“I do…” Oikawa trailed off, completely taken aback.

“So, are you gonna come or what?” Bokuto tilted his head, his nose less than an inch away from Oikawa’s neck. He was feeling Bokuto’s warm breath curling on his skin and had to collect all his strength not to shove him against the wall. To do what, Oikawa couldn’t actually tell.

He just threw the bag over his shoulder, sighing deeply. It was just a yoga lesson in which Bokuto probably wouldn’t be allowed to talk at all, it surely couldn’t do any harm. And he really deserved some relaxation, after all.

 

=

 

Oikawa was lying panting on the floor, completely exhausted. For someone who had trained for almost his entire life, he never imagined a simple yoga lesson would be that intense. And the fact that Bokuto forget to mention that it was a _private_ yoga lesson made things even worse. It was just the two of them plus what he supposed was Bokuto’s long time instructor. She seemed to know his body and his movement almost to perfection, and so her hawk eyes were solely focused on Oikawa. She keep correcting and pushing his muscles to the limit and beyond. When she took out a broom, Oikawa was afraid she was about to beat him, while she only used it as a reference for how straight the line of his arms was supposed to be in the warrior position. After an hour like that, he promised himself to never, ever, underestimate a thing again.

Bokuto was now sat next to him, not so subtly satisfied while watching how exhausted Oikawa was. Being the master of yoga that he surprisingly was, for sure he enjoyed the lesson way more than Oikawa and he appeared a lot calmer and more relaxed than usual.

“What’s wrong with your knee?” Bokuto asked, leaning his torso between his stretched legs in a move that proved how flexible that ball of muscles actually was.

“It’s nothing,” Oikawa answered, unconsciously massaging his bad knee.

“Let me see,” Bokuto said, rolling up Oikawa’s leggings without even asking and examining his knee between his hands. Bokuto’s touch was strong, but not as rough as he imagined it to be.

“Mmh...” he murmured, shifting Oikawa’s knee between his hands, pressing in some specific points. “Next week Rei is gonna have a look at it,” Bokuto declared, finally releasing him from his grip.

“Who’s Rei?” Oikawa asked, rolling down his pants and hugging his leg to his chest.

“My physiotherapist. As you can see, she’s really good!” Bokuto smirked, running his hands along his sides to show off how annoyingly in good shape he was.

“I’ve already seen one. It’s permanently damaged, there’s nothing I can do about it,” Oikawa sighed. His knee was the painful reminder of how his reckless practice could actually turn against him. From that day in which he knew he would never heal, Oikawa started to understand the importance of listening to his body...and to Iwaizumi, who always warned him, trying to save him from his usual downward spiral in which nothing mattered more than to be the very best, and he thought he could only archieve that by practicing until his body couldn’t take anymore. And, one day, it couldn’t.

“ _Permanently damaged, there’s nothing I can do about it,_ ” Bokuto echoed bitterly, shaking his head. “That’s every doctor’s favorite sentence. But have a little faith in her though. It’s gonna be just a quick visit, I can hold your hand the entire time, if needed.” He grinned, raising a sly eyebrow.

“Fuck you, Bokuto,” Oikawa said drily.

“Is it a yes?” he asked, looking him with an equally expectant and excited smile.

“Yes, for the visit. But no hand holding.” Oikawa gave in, collecting his things and finally standing up, ready to leave.

“Too bad.” Bokuto laughed, standing up too.  

“Bokuto-san, it’s time.” An extremely thin and small old lady called him from the door of the yoga room. She was wearing an immaculate raw cotton kimono, hair secured in a tight bun. Despite her extremely severe appearance, she was giving off a warm and comforting vibe.

“Already?” Bokuto grumbled.

“Yes,” she said with a little nod, extending her arm like she was about to take him by the hand.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so. You can train more, have a bath, read...do whatever you want, but wait for me, ok?” Bokuto said, stepping closer to the old lady, who looked at him with fond eyes and a soft smile. The contrast between their physical appearance was almost hilarious: Bokuto seemed even bigger and her even smaller.

“Ok.” The hint of concern in Bokuto’s voice made Oikawa agree without a second thought.

With a little bow, the the old lady dismissed herself and walked away, with Bokuto right after her, leaving Oikawa alone. A sense of discomfort started to sneak up his spine and he realized that, without Bokuto, he didn’t know what to do in a fancy place like this.

Another thing that Bokuto had forgotten to mention, was that the yoga lesson didn’t take place in a normal gym, but in a private spa club or something, where the unexpected Richie Rich Bokuto seemed to be a regular. Oikawa had never seen, and of course had never been, in a place as luxurious as that. Everything was made of pale marble, from the walls, to the ceilings to the furniture, with a lot of beautiful plants and exotic flowers scattered everywhere, creating an extremely clean and bright atmosphere that made Oikawa feel even more exposed. He never liked that absurd amount of light. Everything in that place screamed expensive and never in a million lives could Oikawa have afforded to be there. He was feeling uncomfortable and out of place, like never before.

Oikawa peeked out from the door of the yoga room and glanced around, contemplating his next move. One of the walls of the deserted hallway was made of clear glass, facing a huge zen garden and the thermal area next to it. Maybe taking a bath and disappearing in the water was the best possible scenario, so he found his way and let the warm water envelop him completely.

It was an amazing feeling. His sore muscles slowly started to loosen up and Oikawa unconsciously let out a couple of low moans of pleasure. He rested his head back on a small rock, closing his eyes, letting that peaceful and relaxed atmosphere lull him into a light sleep.

But, of course, the calm didn’t last long. Oikawa sensed the water moving as a new person slowly entered the bath, but he didn’t acknowledge his presence, pretending to be asleep.

There was silence for a while, until the stranger said: “You must be Oikawa.”

“Excuse me?” Oikawa asked, clearly bothered by the intrusion. He blinked a couple of times to wake himself up from his doze and, in front of him, there was another guy, probably the same age as him, who was looking at him with an assuming smile through the long dark fringe that was shielding part of his face.

“I’m Kuroo Tetsuro...”

“...Bokuto’s best friend,” Oikawa cut him off, completing his sentence. Kuroo was the person Bokuto talked about the most, only second to Akaashi, of course. He was a volleyball player too, former captain of a mediocre team he never heard of before and never bothered to research.

“My reputation precedes me, apparently,” Kuroo said, completely unfazed.

“If you were searching for him, you’ve just missed him,” Oikawa informed him, mirroring his unfriendly attitude ten times more. The guy really didn’t know who he was putting himself up against.

“I’m well aware of that,” Kuroo said, slowly approaching him.

“What do you want from me?” Oikawa hissed narrowing his eyes, his body already tensed up, fully on his guard and ready to snap.

“I just wanted to ask you how things are going with him.” Kuroo smiled, a clearly fake smile that pushed Oikawa on the verge of irritation even more.

“Fine,” he said, voice as firm as his chocolate stare. “Just fine.”

“Just fine?” Kuroo laughed, looking directly at him in clear disbelief. “Then I guess it hasn’t happened yet.”

His words lingered heavily in the air between them and Kuroo did nothing to explain himself as Oikawa did nothing to ask him to. He couldn’t let Kuroo think he was taking him seriously, when he was deliberately mocking him to increase his discomfort. For an indefinite span of time, the bath was filled only with the steady sound of running water and the tense silence between them, as thick as the vapour that surrounded them.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Oikawa,” Kuroo started. “I don’t like you. I’ve never have. But Bokuto apparently likes you, and there’s nothing I can do about that.” He moved forward, erasing the already small distance between them, trapping Oikawa between his body and the rocky side of the pool. “Now listen carefully to me. He has a heart of gold, but he is...let’s say...very vulnerable. I swear to God, if I even sense that you are trying to take advantage of him, I’m gonna destroy you.” He paused, his cat eyes blazing with loathing. “I’m not kidding, Oikawa. Raise a finger to him and for you it’s over. Are we clear?”

“You don’t even know me,” Oikawa scoffed, fighting the urge to spit in his face. His proximity was making him more and more uncomfortable, but he was determined not to show it, turning his face into a mask of pure disgust.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got my sources.” Kuroo smirked, their faces just a couple of breaths apart. “Are. We. Clear?”

“You fucking...” Oikawa snapped, aiming at Kuroo’s face with his fist. But Kuroo was faster than him, as if he was expecting exactly that reaction, and blocked his arm in mid air, painfully digging his nails into Oikawa’s arm. The water around them crashed in waves in the sudden movement, catching the attention of a couple of girls in white kimonos who were walking by the clear window inside the spa.

“Leave me.” Oikawa glared at him, internally raging. He had never wanted to hit someone so badly in his whole life, and the fact that Kuroo was openly provoking him while knowing he couldn’t react made things even worse.

Eventually, Kuroo let his arm go, making it splash back in the water. “I’m leaving you to your bath now. I guess you want to enjoy it...while you can,” he said, graciously spinning his wrist around to indicate the place. He just grinned smugly at Oikawa and left without a single look back.

 _“Because you poor people can’t usually afford this kind of treatment”_ was the unspoken end of his sentence.

Oikawa watched him go, gritting his teeth. He had to take a round of deep breaths to sedate the fury that was building in him, closing his eyes and repeating that he was better than this, that he wouldn’t fall into that idiotic trap, that Kuroo didn’t deserve a moment more of his attention. Oikawa tried to go through all the techniques Iwaizumi taught him to calm his anger outbursts, but all he could think was how Kuroo made him feel inferior, skilfully hitting on his only nerve like the master of manipulation that he was. Because Kuroo was right, he didn’t belong there.

“Damn Oikawa, what kind of face is that?”

Bokuto’s voice made his eyes snap open again. He was sat on the side of the bath, wrapped in a black cotton kimono, one leg dangling in the water, the other hugged to his chest. He was resting his face on his knee, his lips turned in a hint of a smirk, but his eyes were surprisingly missing their usual bright light. He was looking a little lost, or maybe particularly tired, like a dimmed version of himself.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing. I’m fine,” Oikawa said with a thin smile, pulling himself up to sit on the side of the pool next to him. “Just fine.”

 

=

 

It was a surprisingly quiet afternoon. Oikawa was sat hunched over on the table, surrounded by his pencils, rulers, papers and sketchbooks on one side and his laptop on the other, trying to give shape to the gym design he had in mind. In the meantime, Bokuto was laying on the couch, reading a book with his legs up in the air. It took Oikawa a while to realize that his strange “studying” positions always had the purpose of giving some of his muscles a workout while he was doing something else. Like he really needed to work those abs more, _honestly_.

Oikawa was absently chewing on his pencil when he heard Bokuto’s phone buzzing on the ground. He always received an impressive amount of texts and calls, which he usually ignored, so it was a surprise seeing him actually pick up. Bokuto was totally the kind of person who always lived with his phone in his hand but, if you tried to contact him, good luck with making him answer.

“Captain!” Bokuto beamed, rolling into a sitting position.

 _Captain?_ Since when did their captain call them personally? Oikawa wasn’t sure that they even shared numbers, but, knowing Bokuto, they were probably already best buddies.

“No, no no no. There’s no need to call him, I can handle it,” Bokuto said urgently, frowning lightly while walking towards his room. He gave Oikawa a sidelong glance before closing the door that separated the living room from the rest of the apartment.

Oikawa blinked at the closed door a couple of times. That was weird. Bokuto never bothered to stay quiet when Oikawa was drawing, so it couldn’t be that. The call was strange enough from the start and the fact that Bokuto apparently didn’t want him to overhear the conversation just confused him even more. And what did he need to handle? And who was the person they were supposed to call? And since when did he become so curious about what Bokuto was doing?

Shaking his head, Oikawa tried to concentrate on his project again, profiting from the sudden silence in the room. He got distracted just twice: the first time when he heard Bokuto taking a shower, the second when their doorbell rang.

“OIKAWA!” Bokuto shouted from his room. “Can you get it? I’m naked!”

Reluctantly, Oikawa took off his glasses and abandoned his almost finished drawing to get to the door. When he opened it, he froze.

This had to be a joke.

“O...O...Oikawa-san?” A completely terrorized Hinata Shoyo was standing in front of him, clinging on the duffel bag on his shoulder like he was about to sprint away. It was the first time he’d seen him since Karasuno won over Aoba Johsai, crushing his dream to go to the nationals forever.

“Hinata!” Bokuto smiled, stepping beside Oikawa.

“Bokuto-san!” Hinata beamed, jumping into Bokuto’s arms.

Bokuto hadn’t had time to dry his hair and it was now almost all down, with some wild silver locks spiking out. This, combined with his fluffy training clothes and the warm way he was holding Hinata, was making him look softer, like a gentle giant. Oikawa’s clenched jaw relaxed at the sight and a small smile reached his lips before he was able to stop it.

“Where have you left Tobio-chan? I thought you two lived glued to each other’s ass,” Oikawa said, putting an unnecessary edge on his tone to compensate for his sappy thoughts.

“Kageyama is at his geniuses’ training camp, so I came here yesterday to see Kenma,” Hinata explained as soon as Bokuto put him down. “Today I was supposed to stay with Daichi-san and Suga-san, but they forgot they had something to do, so they asked Bokuto-san if he could stay with me for the afternoon.”

 _Something to do_ . Smooth, Mr. Refreshing, very smooth. Oikawa laughed to himself as he realized that the _captain_ Bokuto was talking to on the phone was actually Daichi Sawamura, Karasuno’s former captain.

“So, what do you want to do, Shrimpy?” Bokuto asked, bending down to ruffle Hinata’s bright orange hair with his hand.

“Can we train, Bokuto-san? Can we?” Hinata’s eyes were shining with the same excitement that was making all his body tremble. It was clear by the way he looked at him how much Hinata adored Bokuto.

“Of course we can! Look, I even got you a celebrity for a setter!” Bokuto smirked, pointing to Oikawa with both his hands.

“Is the Grand King coming too? That’s awesome! Bokuto-san you’re the best!” Hinata looked between the two of them, almost on the verge of tears.

“Of course he is!” Bokuto said, wrapping an arm around Oikawa’s neck, giving him a confident look that left no room for complaint or pulling back.

“I actually never -” Oikawa tried to protest, pulling on Bokuto’s arm with both his hands to soften his grip.

“How cool!” Hinata’s high pitched scream cut him off. “You two are really the best players in the country! The best that ever existed! I promise I’m gonna be worth your time! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you very much!”

Oikawa was speechless. Hinata was jumping around the room, screaming nonsensical praise and frantically tapping something on his phone. He turned to look at Bokuto, who seem pleased with the resigned expression he was seeing on Oikawa’s face, so much he finally released him.

“Let’s go then, let’s see if you got better from the last time I smashed you!” Bokuto said guiding Hinata out of the apartment and immediately engaging him in a race down the stairs.

Oikawa sighed deeply and just followed them, closing the door behind him.

 

=

 

Putting together three of the most reckless people when it came to training probably wasn’t the best of ideas. The three of them spent the whole afternoon in the gym and Oikawa put in place all the techniques he learned from teaching volleyball to little children. Hinata was extremely talented when it came to spikes, but still the Shrimp was lacking in pretty much everything else. Oikawa even tried to teach Hinata his famous jump serve, honestly without much success, just to indirectly piss Kageyama off.

With the constant support of Oikawa’s tosses, Hinata then went through all the possible spiking techniques with Bokuto, from the straights to the crosses, without forgetting the feints and the rebounds. Looking at Hinata moving in perfect sync with Bokuto, like two twin flames, Oikawa was hit by a sudden wave of flashbacks from the last time Karasuno and Aoba Johsai played against each other. There was something strange in Hinata during that match, a new light that Oikawa could finally place: he recognized Bokuto’s skills, actions and indestructible will in him. If Bokuto were to leave an heir to the world, that heir for sure was Hinata Shoyo.

The shot of memory was so intense that for a moment Oikawa stilled. His jaw shifted and eyes narrowed, as tension seeped into his shoulders, but it didn’t last long. Toss after toss, serve after serve, spike after spike, the afternoon slipped through their fingers and, when their session was finally up, Oikawa realized it had been years since the last time he’d enjoyed practicing so much. Hinata was an incredible wave of light and positivity that, combined with Bokuto’s, was shining with the power of a thousand suns. And by the time people figure out how dangerous he really is, it will already be too late. After all, it was the same thing that happened to Oikawa himself.

But now that fatal spiking machine was looking like nothing but a harmless little child. He was sleeping with his head resting on the top of Bokuto’s shoulder while he was effortlessly carrying him on his back on the way back towards the apartment. The air was already particularly chilly outside, a fresh relief for their still overheated bodies.

They spotted Sugawara and Daichi in the parking lot, whispering in each other’s ears like teenagers while waiting for them outside the car. They looked even more in love than usual, painfully and annoyingly so.

“Give him to me,” Daichi said, opening the car door. He took Hinata in his arms and laid him on the back seats. He didn’t wake up at the manoeuvre, he just curled himself up even more and continued sleeping.

“Thank you for taking care of him at such a short notice, you’re the best,” Sugawara said in his usual gentle voice.

“You know it!” Bokuto beamed in a satisfied smile, placing a firm hand on Sugawara’s shoulder. They were both peeking in the car to check on Hinata with endeared smiles lighting up their faces.

“Looks like you’re a divorced couple exchanging the child after the weekend.” Oikawa smirked, looking intently between the two of them.

“That’s impossible Oikawa,” Sugawara said, shifting his gaze between him and Bokuto with a mischievous grin. “Buffed spikers are your thing, not mine,” he winked, jumping in the car. Daichi immediately started the car and they took off waving goodbye before Oikawa could have time to formulate the sassy answer Sugawara deserved.

“Thank you for not letting him win the Nationals,” Oikawa said, gritting his teeth with his eyes still following the car. Always a savage, Mr. Refreshing, but Oikawa couldn’t deny that he was probably right. Standing right next to him, Bokuto was looking in the same direction with his hands fisted in the pockets of his hoodie. There was something in the proud way he was standing, in his sharp cutting gaze, in the hint of the smirk that was curling his lips that made it impossible to look away from him.

“Of course,” Bokuto laughed, starting to walk away and Oikawa could do nothing but follow right after him.

 

The rest of the evening passed by almost uneventfully. They resumed their Mario Kart tournament, ordered pizza that they ate on the floor binge watching The Big Bang Theory, and ended up sat on the couch together, volleyball magazine in hand, researching almost all their future opponents on internet.

“You’re good with children, by the way,” Bokuto said, intently flipping through the high school players part of the magazine.

“You know that Hinata is actually just two years younger than us, right?” Oikawa laughed, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes, dumbass.” Bokuto snapped the magazine closed, rolling his eyes. “I mean in general, you are good at teaching, I feel like today I’ve learned something myself too.”

“Oh, mark this day on the calendar!” Oikawa beamed, giving him a cocky smile.

“And people say I’m the annoying one…” Bokuto stood up shaking his head and walked by the refrigerator, carefully studying the inside. “Speaking of children, did you teach Kageyama the jump serve? He has exactly your moves.”

“No. I didn’t. He learned just by watching me,” Oikawa answer flatly. The question stung painfully in the back of his mind. Kageyama always awakened the most childish and dangerous side of him and he never overcame the irritation mixed with guilt he felt when it came to the Karasuno’s setter. When they were in the same team back in junior high, the kid adored him, but Oikawa was so scared by his raw talent that he did nothing but hate him and the feeling never changed.

“Damn he truly is a genius then,” Bokuto nodded, closing the refrigerator door with a powerful nudge.

“Indeed he is,” Oikawa sighed, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. He was starting to feel tired.

“You look sad.” Bokuto jumped on the couch again, throwing a cold bowl and a spoon in Oikawa’s lap. “Here, have some ice cream.”

“Ice cream before bed, what are we? Five year olds?” Oikawa asked, furrowing his brows.

“Worse. We’re college students.” Bokuto leaned forward to take a spoonful of ice cream. “Hey, I didn’t mean to hit a nerve, by the way...” he added, with his mouth still full.

“It’s just…” Oikawa trailed off, absently brushing the surface of the ice cream with his spoon. It was chocolate with dark chocolate chips, one of his favorite flavours. “It was a long time ago and it was a dark period for me. Iwaizumi had always been the good one with him and with people in general…”

“You miss him, don’t you?” Bokuto asked, the corner of his lips turned up in an unusual soft smile.

“A bit,” Oikawa lied, looking down to mask it. He missed Iwaizumi so much that just saying his name was enough to make his heart ache.

“Why did it end?”

Bokuto’s question made Oikawa’s gut twist painfully. He realized he’d never talked about Iwaizumi with anyone before, not because he didn’t want or need to, but because he never had anyone to tell and no one ever bothered, or dared, to ask. Oikawa recognized that now, after all the weeks that they’d spent together, Bokuto was the closest thing to a friend he had ever had, besides Iwaizumi himself, of course.

“It ended because I’m a selfish piece of shit who panics a lot and makes a big deal out of literally everything.” It was the first time Oikawa had said these words out loud, to someone else and to himself too. And it was just the bare truth of what happened when he decided to break up with Iwaizumi when he said that he wasn’t going to follow Oikawa to the Tokyo University. It was the first time they’d ever been apart since childhood and the thought of not having him by his side again drove Oikawa so crazy it made him think that their relationship would have never worked that way. He thought that being physically close was vital for their love to survive, but he’d never been so wrong in his entire life. Their connection ran with deep roots inside the both of them, tying them together, even now that they were apart.

“I was thinking because you’re an annoying jerk, but this makes even more sense. Points for the hardcore self awareness though.” Bokuto laughed, patting him on the back so hard he made Oikawa cough.

“Fuck you, Bokuto.” Oikawa cleared his throat, getting rid of the knot that was starting to form.

“How rude, Oikawa, how rude.” Bokuto rolled his eyes, but he was looking way more amused than annoyed. “And why don’t you just get back with him already?” he added with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing to do. And, in truth it really was. If only it was as easy as it was obvious though...

“You know what they say: ‘Don’t look back, there’s nothing there’,” Oikawa said with a dry laugh, faking a big deep voice to recite the quote.

“Bullshit.” Bokuto turned his head and fixed his steady gaze on him. His golden eyes were darkened by his deep silver frown, so firm and serious they made Oikawa startle.   “Remember, Oikawa: no matter what, you always have to follow the light. And if the light takes you back to change things, then you aren’t going back at all. You’re going forward.”

“Whoa, Bokuto. I wasn’t ready for this bombshell,” Oikawa said raising his eyebrows, genuinely bewildered by that unexpected hit of wisdom, especially coming from Bokuto.

“That’s what they always say,” he winked, showing him all his perfect teeth in a wide grin. And here he was, his old self again.

“Right, after this I’m gonna go and obsess over my sad life in my room.” Oikawa stood up and stretched his limbs a bit before walking away.

“Oikawa…?” Bokuto’s voice made him stop in the doorway. There was something strange in his tone, it was almost tentative. Oikawa heard him take a couple of deep breaths before he started speaking again. “Do you think you could find it? You know...better than you had it?” Bokuto asked cautiously and, even if Oikawa didn’t have the guts to turn around and look at him, he still could picture his lost expression, with his big owl eyes still roving like boiling honey running down his spine.

Oikawa dropped his eyes to the floor and sighed, his back still turned to him. “I’m not sure if I truly want to find out,” he said in a whisper of a voice.

Bokuto didn’t add a single word to that.

  
Oikawa closed the door of his room behind him and collapsed in his bed immediately, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He felt exhausted, like he had been exposed to direct sunlight for too long.

 

  
_It's beautiful the way you move / But what's a boy to do when he can't seem to choose? / Yeah I'm beautiful, but I must explain / My mind's not in a good place, and so the comedown plays_

 _-_ **_Someone That Loves You_ ** _, Honne with Izzy Bizu_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I love you,” Oikawa said between the kisses. “I love you,” he echoed, hugging him close. “I love you.”

“Hey! Are you ready? Hurry up or we’ll be late for -” Okawa shouted opening the door of the shared apartment. It was Tuesday, and they had less than 15 minutes to get to their usual yoga lesson. One minute late and their trainer would have used the broom to beat them for sure this time. But, as soon as Oikawa got an eyeful of the inside, he trailed off immediately.

It was a complete mess.

The lights were off but still some rays of sun were filtering in through the windows. In the dimness he could see that books were scattered everywhere, almost all the furniture was flipped upside down and the cabinets were all opened. When Oikawa took a step in, he felt something cracking under his shoes. It was glass, and it was broken everywhere across the floor. In the thin pieces he recognized the vase that used to hold the flowers he bought earlier that week on his walk back from the library. Now their colorful petals were laying on the ground, ripped to pieces.

“...Bokuto?” he called urgently, but no sound came in response.

Hit by a sudden realization, Oikawa dropped his duffel bag and ran to the bedrooms. Both the doors were closed, but he didn’t bother to check his first and instead he slammed Bokuto’s open, without even having the courtesy to knock.

His entrance was welcomed by a whirlwind of white feathers, dancing gracefully in the sudden rush of air. The chaos was evident even in the almost complete darkness and it took Oikawa a couple of seconds to adjust to the conditions. As he did, his mouth opened but his voice wasn’t able to come out.

Bokuto was crouched in the farthest corner of the room, almost completely undressed, holding his knees to his chest with his head sunk between them.

“...Bokuto? It’s me...” Oikawa tried to call him again, but this time too his presence came completely unnoticed.

Instinctively, Oikawa took a couple of big step to erase the space between them and knelt down beside him. When his eyes met Bokuto’s hands, he froze. His knuckles were purple and blood was trickling down from them, leaving dark traces along his fingers. He was fisting a crumpled black and white shirt, made unmistakable by the big underlined number four. His Fukurodani jersey.

“ _Just fine? I guess it hasn’t happened yet, then._ ” Kuroo’s words echoed in Oikawa’s head. He’d wondered a lot what Kuroo was talking about, if he was just trying to scare him off, but now he realized he was deadly serious. And now he wished he’d never found out.

Oikawa swallowed hard. He reached out a hand to touch him but, before his hands could reach his skin, Bokuto snapped his head up giving him a confused bloodshot look. Oikawa drew his hand back immediately. It was like looking at a harmed wild animal: desperate, dangerous and unpredictable. Oikawa felt the urge to move away from him, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Instead, he shifted even closer and placed a trembling hand on Bokuto’s cheek. His skin was extremely pale and felt like cold porcelain under Oikawa’s fingers. Bokuto didn’t recoil, but he didn’t lean into the touch either.

“You’re hurt…” Oikawa said, voice lower than a whisper.

“I know.” Bokuto’s words came out like a death sentence.

He was more than hurt. He was broken.

In that moment, Oikawa felt completely useless. He didn’t know what was happening, he didn’t know what to do. It was like watching someone drowning from the shore. But he couldn’t leave him there, he needed to do something, he had at least to try.

“Come on Bokuto, stand up,” Oikawa said, wrapping both his arms under Bokuto’s armpit, trying to pick him up. “Damn, you’re heavy...” Oikawa hissed as soon as Bokuto was finally standing, his weight almost completely on him, motionless and stiff like a gigantic puppet.

Oikawa managed to finally make him sit down on the bed and took a couple of moments to inspect his body, searching for injuries other than the blood and bruises on his hands. Gladly, there were none, just some scratches that trailed down his chest in red parallel lines.

It was so strange, seeing someone so untameable and relentless as Bokuto in that state, completely lost and suffering. In Oikawa’s mind Bokuto was nothing but loud laughs, endless teasing and iron confidence. The realization of how fragile his crystal soul really was made Oikawa’s chest ache.

“Wait for me...I’ll be back right away,” he said, stroking the back of his fingers on his cheek.

Oikawa got back as fast as he could and was relieved to find Bokuto exactly where he left him. He was resting his head back on the wall, eyes closed and jaw clenched. Oikawa’s eyes unconsciously traveled down his body and he cursed himself for not having forced him to put some clothes on too. The twilight of the room was casting a dangerous dance of shadows over Bokuto’s powerful features, his muscles so sleek and taut it was like looking at a marble statue. Damn.

Trying his best to snap himself back to reality, Oikawa sat down on the bed right next to Bokuto, taking his hand in his, gently but with no hesitation. Surprisingly, Bokuto didn’t resist. His skin was still ice cold as Oikawa started to delicately clean off the blood that had dried on his fingers with a warm and moist towel. For someone who practically spent his whole life spiking balls, his hands were unexpectedly soft. Oikawa tried to pay attention not to hurt him any further, but was nearly impossible with all the cuts and the extended bruises that were tainting him. A soft hiss of pain came from Bokuto’s mouth and, when Oikawa looked up, he saw his expression was twisted in a grimace. Oikawa just sighed, and reached to his other hand, the one that was still fisting the Fukurodani jersey. This time, his arm didn’t move and remained as hard as stone at his side.

“Alright,” Oikawa sighed again, standing up and walking to the other side of the bed. He gently started to wipe off the blood from his other hand, but it was so stiff it made the task almost impossible to accomplish. Oikawa slowly slid his fingers into Bokuto’s fist, trying to soften the grip from the inside, but his hand just clenched them too, blocking his every attempt to move.

“Let me go, Bokuto...please,” Oikawa whispered kindly, a hint of barely concealed worry filling his tone. When he realized Bokuto wasn’t going to, he tenderly started to rub his thumb in circles over Bokuto’s hand. He didn’t know why, it just felt natural to do so.

The warm touch was enough to wake Bokuto up. He was now leaning forward and staring at him, and Oikawa felt himself shiver under that golden gaze. Bokuto’s eyes were flickering all over his face, like he was searching for something, like he was trying to make sense of Oikawa’s presence. And, all of a sudden, he seemed to have found it.

Oikawa felt trapped in that almost surreal situation, Bokuto’s breath warming his face, the tip of their noses less than an inch apart, their hands held tight together even stronger, almost impossibly so. Oikawa raised his eyes to met Bokuto’s and his lips unconsciously parted, but he couldn’t make himself say or do anything, or even breathe in for the air he desperately needed. Oikawa’s heart was racing in his chest and his bottom lip trembled, itching from the sudden desire to kiss him, to comfort him, to do something to make him feel better.

A heartbeat of hesitation, and the moment was already gone.

Bokuto turned his head away and dropped his face down, resting his forehead against Oikawa’s shoulder. Oikawa exhaled a deep breath out, feeling displeased and relieved at the same time. He just held him closer, softly tangling his hand in Bokuto’s messy mane of silver and black hair.

Neither of them let the other’s hand go.  

 

=

 

Even if Oikawa was more than used to sharing a bed with another guy, sleeping with a 172 pound one on him was a completely different story.

Bokuto was snorting softly, arms around Oikawa’s hips and forehead pressed against the centre of his back, his warm breath and the tips of his hair sending tickles down Oikawa’s spine. How Oikawa ended up being the little spoon in all of this was still a mystery to him. After all, he was used to always being the tallest, but Bokuto was not only taller, but way bigger than him. It was actually a nice feeling, almost comforting, and Oikawa didn’t realise how much he really needed it too till that moment.

He turned his head around to peek over his shoulder: Bokuto was looking much calmer and seemed to have finally fallen into a deep, even sleep. Oikawa, on the other hand, was more than exhausted. He never let himself fully pass out, hyperaware like he was of Bokuto’s presence next to him. A breath a little bit more quivering, a shiver, a sudden contraction of his muscles, a faint groan escaping his mouth...everything was just enough to snap Oikawa back on full alert, worried that something would happen again. Maybe that’s why when, during the night, Bokuto hugged him from behind so tight he almost took his breath away, Oikawa just pulled him even closer, back against his strong chest and hands still intertwined. The flash of desire that invested him before was nowhere to be found. Oikawa was just moved by the need to keep Bokuto still, to keep him warm and safe. Or, at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Now a light sun was seeping in from the windows, casting a delicate blue light in the room and on their bodies. Oikawa definitely gave up on sleeping and slowly freed himself from Bokuto’s arms and slid out of the bed, making sure not to wake him up in the process. Luckily, he didn’t. Walking out of the room, he stumbled on Bokuto’s Fukuodani jersey that was now discarded on the floor. Oikawa picked it up and studied it attentively. It was clearly more than just a shirt to him, it was somehow a symbol, a memory, a bridge to the stable life he had before. It was his last connection to Akaashi. It was his safest place to hide.

The realization stung uncomfortably inside Oikawa’s chest and he quickly folded the jersey, placing it in the nightstand next to Bokuto, in case he needed it again.

In that moment, Oikawa knew Bokuto didn’t really need him, he just needed someone to ground him. He was nothing more than a temporary fix, and the most surprising part was that he didn’t actually mind at all.

Oikawa made his way to the bathroom and stepped immediately into the shower, hoping for the cold water to instill some energy and the necessary strength to get through the day. He carefully washed his body, rubbing his skin with much more force than was actually necessary, as if he could brush away all his memories of the day before too.

He had the whole night to make sense of what happened, but still he couldn’t. And it wasn’t Bokuto that was his main concern, he knew something was off in him from the first time he saw he was just a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. The thing that worried him the most was his reaction to that. Seeing the most vulnerable and fragile side of Bokuto woke something in him, a wave of affection that he never realized was there. But it wasn’t love, it couldn’t be. Love was what he felt for Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi only. That heart twisting happiness, that feeling of not being able to properly function without the other, the fire that made his gut boil with lust by just having a glimpse of him. With Bokuto, it was different, but Oikawa couldn’t find a proper word to describe his feelings. Their relationship could be compared to a velvet knot: smooth on the skin but with sharp cutting edges that dig into the flesh at every strong pull.

Oikawa stopped the water and dropped his forehead against the cold tiles, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Little drops of water were chasing themselves on his skin, running down his spine, waking his muscles up with light chills. Chills that turned into shivers. Shivers that turned into trembling when a cry erupted from his chest. Suddenly, the whole weight of the night crushed him, knocking him down to the shower floor. He rested his head back and slightly opened his eyes, vision blurred by the silent tears that were falling freely on his cheeks.

It was too much. The university, the new team, the pressure, the big city, the expectations, his confusing feelings, Bokuto, the eternal presence of Akaashi’s ghost, that loss that still was too painful to acknowledge, Iwaizumi’s absence. His breath was running shorter at every thought and Oikawa held his knees to his chest, feeling the urge to make himself smaller and smaller, to keep his shaking body together. For the first time he felt powerless, almost overwhelmed by the life that was slipping through his fingers, out of his control. In the blink of an eye, everything changed, forever, but he remained the same. The same, always inadequate, Oikawa Tooru.

He cried until the shower’s walls felt unbearably close and Oikawa stood up abruptly, slamming the door open and running to the sink, panting harshly. He grabbed a towel and rubbed it furiously over his hair, trying to shake his head out of the dizziness in which it fell. He was determined not to indulge in it any longer. He was better than this, he would never give in to darkness. Never. He met his own eyes in the mirror and stared at himself for a long moment, eyes becoming more and more focused as each second passed, until they were twisted in an almost crazed expression.

“Here you are...” he smirked at himself, fighting the urge to slap his own face. Instead, he just folded a towel around his hips and walked into the kitchen, quietly starting to make breakfast. He was hungry, far more than he was used to being so early in the morning.

 

=

 

Bokuto was peacefully eating his breakfast bowl, munching every bite with a pleased grin. It was just how he liked it: not too hot, a little spicy, with more meat than rice.

“This thing gets better every time you make it, Oikawa,” he said, pointing at the bowl with his chopsticks. In the movement, Oikawa’s eyes fell on Bokuto’s hands: they were both dark purple, the bruises now traveling up to his wrists.

“Thank you.” Oikawa bowed his head in a little nod of acknowledgment. “But now how are you gonna play with...those,” he sighed, voicing his concerns.

“Oh.” Bokuto seemed surprised and watched his hands like the thought never occurred to him, like he didn’t even realize the extent of the damage. He curled his fingers a couple of times, clenching his fists and extending his digits way up, each time with a hint of a grimace. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll bandage them and come up with a believable excuse. I’m a master of that…” Bokuto trailed off, lips curled into a bitter half smile.

“Why don’t we just take a day off?” Oikawa offered, leaning forward on the table with an encouraging grin. “No lessons, no practice, nothing. Just for today.”

“I must have scared the shit out of you last night, I can’t believe that _you_ are suggesting we skip our duties.” Bokuto laughed, tilting his head to the side to study Oikawa. He didn’t seem convinced.

“It’s just a day, and I learned the value of rest days a long time ago. Plus you said you are the master of excuses, just find one.” Oikawa gestured vaguely as if he wanted to dismiss the argument and innocently took a sip from his cup of tea.

Bokuto narrowed his eyes briefly. “Give me a minute,” he said, disappearing into his bedroom.

Oikawa could overhear just bits of his conversation, something about practice, showers and cold hair. He heard Bokuto say his name too. The call went on for a couple of minutes more, then Bokuto emerged from the room with a satisfied grin on his face.

“Ok, done. We are free!” he beamed, sitting down at the table and picking up his bowl from where he left it, starting to eat again. “I never thought you’d be good in the kitchen, by the way,” he added randomly, after a couple of munches.

“I...just had several occasions to practice my cooking skills...” Oikawa sighed, trying not to let the memories overwhelm him again.

“Good for me, then.” Bokuto smiled, emptying his bowl and reaching out to pour some steamy tea in his cup.

“You don’t like to cook, do you?” Oikawa asked, looking at him sidelong and raising a questioning eyebrow.

“It’s not that I don’t like it...I’ve never tried to,” Bokuto said, scratching the back of his head with an innocent expression.

Oikawa almost choked on his tea. “Bokuto, you are 19 years old, it’s impossible you’ve never tried to cook.”

“I never had to,” he shrugged, looking at Oikawa like he was making a big deal out of nothing.

“Weren’t your parents ever late and you had to cook yourself dinner?” Oikawa pressed. For a second he thought Bokuto was kidding him, but now he was so bewildered he had to get to the bottom of that absurd news.

“I can’t recall the last time my parents had dinner with me honestly. But I’ve always had Ikuko, so I was safe.” Bokuto’s eyes flashed with a dark jolt of sadness that disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Ikuko?”

“My maid. But I don’t like to use that word with her,” Bokuto said with a soft smile, brought to his lips probably by a sweet memory.

“Your...maid?” Oikawa freaked out, eyes wide with surprise and disbelief. It couldn’t possible be real life. “Wait a minute, Bokuto. How rich are you, exactly?”

“Fortunately enough to fully pay for all the mess I made yesterday...” he said calmly, completely unfazed by Oikawa’s reaction.

“Shut up. I don’t want your money, I just want to know you’re feeling better.” Oikawa tried to conceal the concern in his look, but he failed. His eyes fell on Bokuto’s hand again, travelled across his body, and fixed on his face. Bokuto looked so relaxed that the events from last night seemed just a faded memory of a nightmare. Too bad there were bruises and scars that were running deep on the outside and on the inside, and their devastated apartment was there to remind them how real it all was.

“I am.” Bokuto nodded absently, gaze lost somewhere outside the window.

If if was the truth or a lie, Oikawa couldn’t tell.

 

=

 

Oikawa stuck his head out from his spot on the couch to watch Bokuto, who was lying down on the carpet right next to him. His chest was rising and falling regularly, his eyes were closed and his arms were lazily looped around a pillow. Oikawa flipped on his stomach, resting his chin on both hands, intently watching Bokuto sleeping. The quietness that he was radiating was almost surreal.

Oikawa yawned. The sleepless night had already made him tired, but the day spent cleaning up the apartment was the final blow. They erased together every sign of the madness that occurred, restoring the original perfect tidiness. Now, it was like it had never happened; not a single clue was left for a stranger’s eye to see.

“What?” Bokuto’s sleepy voice woke Oikawa from his thoughts. He didn’t realise he’d still been staring at him while he was completely spaced out.

Oikawa sighed. There was a single question that was buzzing in the back of his mind since the night before, a question he tried to ask so many times during the afternoon but had never found the courage. But he needed to know.

“Why didn’t you call him?” Oikawa asked, finally.

Bokuto exhaled a thin smile, rolling on his back while scratching his stomach, blinking at the ceiling a couple of times. “Because…” Bokuto’s answer came after a long silence, but he trailed off almost as soon as he started speaking, sighing deeply. “He already had to go through a lot, back in the day. He doesn’t deserve to be put through my mess again, especially now that he’s free. I know he would have worried and I don’t want him to.”

“But you still need him,” Oikawa stated. It wasn’t a question, it was simply the truth.

“I do, but he doesn’t need me. I feel like a huge weight lifted from his shoulders now that he doesn’t have to constantly keep an eye on me.” Bokuto lifted himself up to sit on the floor, resting his head back on the side of the couch, so close that Oikawa felt his hair tickle his nose.

“No one forced him in the past, but he still did it regardless... “ Oikawa said, shifting away a little. He was unconsciously about to tangle his hand in Bokuto’s hair, but he caught himself just in time.

“He did it just because I was his captain. He’s very respectful with status and shit like that.” Bokuto shook his head, gesturing vaguely away from him. From his expression it was clear how hurtful the memory of Akaashi was.

“But does Akaashi know?” Oikawa asked. Now that the ice was broken, he needed to know everything about their relationship. It wasn’t that Bokuto never talked about him, it was the exact opposite of that. He talked about him a lot, but never said a single word about _them_.

“Know what?” Bokuto turn around to watch Oikawa, knitting his brows together.

“That you were and you still are in love with him,” Oikawa stated in a matter-of-fact tone, crossing his arms across his chest.

“No and no.” Bokuto shook his head fiercely. “Of course not, I’m not _that_ stupid.”

“All bold and fierce and you can’t even tell a boy you like him!” Oikawa laughed. “You’re really the biggest fake, Bokuto.”

“Shut up!” he barked, throwing a pillow at Oikawa’s face.

“Isn’t he into boys?” Oikawa was extremely caught up by the topic, more than he expected himself to be. There was something strange in their relationship, and he needed to find what it was. Bokuto was the kind of person who was famous for charming everyone, and in Oikawa’s eyes it was simply impossible that Akaashi hadn’t developed some sort of feelings towards him, especially with the deep relationship they had as a setter and a spiker.

“I don’t know, we never talked about it…” Bokuto shrugged.

“Or maybe he doesn’t know _you_ are into boys...” Oikawa suggested, ducking down to search for Bokuto’s face.

“I’m not even sure I’m into boys myself...or girls either.” Bokuto’s eyes were shaded with guilty confusion as he locked his gaze with Oikawa’s.

The comment dazed Oikawa so much it left him speechless. Well, for a natural flirt like Bokuto was, that was for sure an unexpected turn of events. “So, what are you into?” he asked, carefully.

“Volleyball,” Bokuto said with a wide grin and innocent raise of his eyebrow.

“Oh, come on!” Oikawa fisted the pillow that Bokuto threw earlier and smashed it on the top of his head a couple of time, each one harder.

“My hair! Ok, ok, stop it!” Bokuto laughed, slamming the pillow away with a powerful slap. He climbed up to sit on the couch next to Oikawa, before continuing. “So...I’m not into _girls_ or _boys_ in general. I guess I’m just into Akaashi. He’s the first person I’ve ever been attracted to,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck.

“But nothing happened...between you two,” Oikawa said, still unconvinced.

“No.” Bokuto shook his head, deadly serious.

“Like...no sex…” Oikawa pressed.

“No.”

“Or kisses…” Oikawa could feel Bokuto’s annoyance grow with every question, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Bokuto’s jaw twitched as he closed his eyes to collect himself. “No.”

“Not even some accidental dick grabbing in the shower?” Oikawa asked, in a low, naughty voice.

“I swear to god Oikawa...” Bokuto let out a sharp and exasperated breath, gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes.

“Why are you so scandalized?” Oikawa chuckled. Bokuto’s dangerous look was an amusing contrast with the flush that was traveling from his cheeks to the tip of his ears, which were burning in a vivid red.

Bokuto pulled his legs to his chest, hugging them tight. He was nervously biting his bottom lip, carefully avoiding Oikawa’s searching eyes with his head ducked down. Oikawa studied him for a couple of moments before the realization hit him like a hammer on the head.

“No way.” Oikawa’s jaw dropped. “NO FUCKING WAY!” he screamed, covering his mouth with both hands.

Bokuto didn’t even try to deny Oikawa’s implications. He just turned his head and finally looked at him in the eyes for the first time. He was looking like a disgruntled baby owl and Oikawa could do nothing but giggle at the sight. Bokuto’s eyes lingered in Oikawa’s for a couple of moments more, then he stood up with a grimace and walked away.

“Bokuto!” Oikawa shouted to call him back. “KOU-CHAN COME HERE!”

Bokuto shot him his middle finger and disappeared into his room, but Oikawa heard he was actually laughing. Nervously, but still laughing. He followed him with his gaze for a couple of moments, before running into Bokuto’s room too.

They had _a lot_ of things to talk about.

 

=

 

The loud music was thumping rhythmically in Oikawa’s ribcage as he reached to the table to empty his cocktail in one sharp gulp. He shut his eyes, letting the burning feeling of alcohol permeate him completely. The multicolor lights were flashing even before his closed eyelids, or maybe it was just an effect of the drunkenness that was starting to twist his brain. In truth, he’d never been a fan of nightclubs, but, as he learned by now, a person couldn’t just say no to Bokuto Kōtarō.

Oikawa stood up, leaning against the railing. Their table, because of course Bokuto booked them a table, was in one of the privé’s best positions: right before the main dance floor but separated from all the people by a couple of tall steps, with a sea of grinning and bouncing humans dressed in every kind of costume spread all below him. Looking at them from above, Oikawa felt somehow pleasingly powerful.  

“You’ve go to be kidding me.”

The unmistakable spiteful voice made a cold shiver run down Oikawa’s spine. He turned around to find Kuroo staring at him with an unimpressed but yet clearly annoyed expression, with both his hands on his hips. He was wearing red shorts with a matching red basketball jersey with _Wildcats_ written in bold white letters. Oikawa almost smiled. If it wasn’t Kuroo, he would for sure have complimented him on the movie chosen for inspiration.

“A cat? Really?” Kuroo complained, looking down at Bokuto who was sat with his feet up on the table right next to where he was standing.

The two best friends decided to ride the basketball costume wave together, and Bokuto was dressed as Bugs Bunny in Space Jam, long grey ears and fluffy tail included. And at that, Oikawa smiled for real.

“He looks good though, you have to admit that.” Bokuto smirked against the neck of the bottle of beer he was drinking.

Oikawa took a second to realize why Kuroo was so bothered, but, when he did, he couldn’t help but be even more proud of his choice. The cat was the animal symbol of the Nekoma Volley Club, Kuroo’s former team, and that night Oikawa was dressed as catwoman. He was wearing a skin tight black leather jumpsuit that Bokuto himself had ripped in strategic places to, as he said, _“show off all this grace”_. Long cuts on his arms, thighs, ribcage and chest were now exposing inches of his bare skin and a black cat mask was completing the outfit. And yes, he really looked good in it.

Bokuto’s comment only increased Kuroo’s frustration, who roughly grabbed a bottle to pour himself a couple of shots. Oikawa looked questioning at Bokuto and he just raised his eyebrows in response, signalling that they just won the unspoken argument.

“I feel like a chicken in a henhouse full of roosters.” Sugawara grimaced, making the ice in his glass clink. He took a small sip and walked away from them, only to sit down on Daichi’s lap. “You captains are _ridiculous_ ,” he said in an alluring whisper, tangling one hand in his boyfriend’s hair. They were such an amazing sight, Sugawara in his impossibly tight black jeans, a crop top and a powder pink silk bomber jacket that said on the back “Pink Ladies”, and Daichi who just needed a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket to dress as Danny Zuko.

“The most ridiculous thing is that you still address us as captains, even if we’re not anymore,” Daichi said, languidly stroking his hand across Sugawara’s naked lower back. His hand travelled to his side, pinching his hip and making him startle and chuckle.

“Well, for me it’s just a matter of time,” Bokuto said triumphantly, intertwining his hands behind his head, displaying his powerful bare arms in the process. “As the ace, I will always be captain.”

“Excuse me?” Oikawa, Daichi and Kuroo said at the same time, snapping their head in his direction. As a setter, a middle blocker, and a wing spiker, all former captains despite not being aces, the comment hit the same nerve in all three of them.

“Well done Bokuto, you finally found something which they all agree on. Let’s celebrate!” Sugawara beamed, raising in the air a blue bottle of gin.

In a matter of minutes, all their glasses were full and the quarrels forgotten. The atmosphere of the club was taking over them, with the whirlwind of different music, the colorful darkness broken by the occasional flash of lights, the constant background noise made of whispers and shouts from the voices all around them.  

Although the club was huge, the theme party drew quite a varied crowd and was completely packed by college students from all years. The smell of sweat and different types of alcohol was almost overpowering, but that didn’t stop them from leaving their secure nest and diving into the rest of the people. It was a mess of curious eyes, tempting smiles coming from all over the place, bodies pressed against each other, getting lost in the music and in the euphoria.

After hours of dancing and too many drinks, Oikawa was confidently navigating the crowd to get back to the table, in desperate need to sit down and breath real oxygen and not just other people’s drunk breaths. He turned around and realized he lost everyone in the confusion. But before he could could grab the railing to get upstairs, he felt a strong arm looping around his shoulders, pulling him from behind and making him take several steps back. When his back crashed against the other person’s chest, an intense wave of perfume reached Oikawa’s nose. He froze, recognizing it immediately.

“Hey pretty kitty.” Iwaizumi tugged him down to whisper low in Oikawa’s ear. He tightened his grip for a moment before turning him around and slamming him against the wall.

In the backlight Iwaizumi was almost completely lost in the shadows, but the flashing lights were enough to see his roguish expression, the dark glint of his faded eyes, the hint of a beard that he let grow on his cheeks, the sheer layer of sweat that was covering his bare arms and part of his chest. With his sleeves rolled up to his shoulder, a low cut sailor t-shirt, tight white pants and a marine cap, he was the living manifestation of temptation. Oikawa felt instantly drawn to him, unable to look away.

“Do you think that’s an appropriate outfit?” Iwaizumi said, placing a hand on the wall, arm stretched above Oikawa’s shoulders to block his way out. “The boys are getting distracted, they were all looking at you…”

“As they should.” Oikawa shrugged, pretending to be unaffected by his proximity and surveyed the crowd behind Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He spotted Bokuto at the counter taking rounds of shots with someone who was wearing his bunny ears, probably Semi Eita (the guy couldn’t survive a single second without a setter by his side, apparently), while Sugawara was dragging Daichi somewhere away from the public eye. “And what about you, Iwa-chan? Were you watching me too?” Oikawa whispered, locking their gazes together. He lowered his head and, without losing eye contact, he stroked the tip of his tongue along the end of the straw in Iwaizumi’s drink, guiding it to his mouth. A small sip was enough to recognize the flavour: Vodka sour, Oikawa’s signature drink.

“And are you drinking a vodka sour because you miss me?” Oikawa smirked, pulling back from the straw.

“Curiosity killed the cat...and you’re a very curious kitty…” Iwaizumi leaned forward and Oikawa’s heartbeat began to quicken at the feel of his hot breath on his face. He sagged against the wall, lowering just enough so that their faces were directly in front of each other.

“Am I?” Oikawa’s eyes sparkled a bit as he murmured too low for anyone but Iwaizumi to hear. He took the drink from his hands, taking another innocent sip.  

“Oh…” Iwaizumi said, grabbing the sides of Oikawa’s mask with both his hands, raising it slowly and finally placing it on the top of his head. He took his time to carefully study Oikawa’s face, looking from his lips to his eyes to his lips again. “You truly are.”

Iwaizumi studied him intently with awestruck eyes, stroking his thumb along Oikawa’s bottom lip, which automatically parted, trembling with anticipation. Iwaizumi clenched Oikawa’s chin between his thumb and index finger, pulling it down. Oikawa’s heart was racing in his chest, so much it was making all his body tremble and his breath run short. Not a single coherent thought was able to form in his mind. All the people watching them didn’t matter, the almost deafening music didn’t matter, the fights, their foolish pride, all the time they spent apart didn’t matter. Iwaizumi was the only thing he saw, the only thing that mattered, the only thing he wanted.

When their lips finally crashed together, Oikawa lost all sense of his surroundings. He clung to Iwaizumi, pulling him closer, afraid he could slip away, that it could be only an alcohol induced hallucination. But more than the drinks, it was Iwaizumi’s taste that was intoxicating him. Pressed against the wall, they were devouring each other with violent ferocity, in a mess of tongues, moans and and hands that were already all over their bodies.

“I’ve waited all night to get my hands on you...” Iwaizumi groaned, slowly unzipping Oikawa’s leather jumpsuit, welcoming each new inch of exposed skin with a roving kiss.

“Oh really?” Oikawa purred, before placing a firm bite on the base of Iwaizumi’s neck.

His answer came in the form of a sharp tug that pulled them even closer, increasing the pressure between their already hard bodies. One hand was gripping his ass, the other tangled between Oikawa’s hair, his lips everywhere.

“Iwa…” Oikawa breathed, pulling away a little. He was overwhelmed by the desire to feel Iwaizumi’s naked skin beneath his fingertips again, to remember the sensation of those  strong hands on his hips, to hear his low voice screaming in pleasure. He wanted to reacquaint himself with every fiber of his body, to become one again, like they’d never been apart.

But they couldn’t. Not there. Not when probably every single person at the party was enjoying the show they were putting on. Oikawa was torn for a second, almost giving in to their impatience, but the urge to protect them was stronger. That side of Iwaizumi was for his eyes only.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Iwaizumi said, like he just read his mind. Before he could finish the sentence, they were already climbing on each other in the car.

 

=

 

Oikawa arched his back against the wall of Iwaizumi’s new apartment, grinding against his perfect body in harsh, impatient movements, his mouth already full of his taste from the blowjob he gave him in the car. Oikawa could not help but give in to the need to feel his heavy weight on his tongue again, to see his knuckles go white around the wheel, to hear him growling his name, to drive him so crazy with his lips sliding around his cock that it was impossible for Iwaizumi to stay still and not desperately fuck his mouth. He knew he could have both of them killed, but he didn’t care.

Their clothes were already ripped on the floor, the leather jumpsuit and the cat mask next to that illegal sailor uniform, their underwear nowhere to be found.

“You’re a bad, bad kitty, you know?” Iwaizumi said, abruptly grabbing Oikawa by the neck and smacking him harder against the wall. His fingers were digging more and more into Oikawa’s neck, slowly tightening the grip and cutting his breath off.

Iwaizumi forced him to raise his chin, stretching his neck back, and ran his tongue from the dip between Oikawa’s collarbones up to his jaw. Oikawa felt his heart pounding fiercely under his iron grip and the more he was aware that he couldn’t breath, the more excited he grew. He loved that side of Iwaizumi, how his eyes narrowed dangerously, the pleased grin that spread across his lips every time he tried to fight him without success. Oikawa liked it mixed with pain, and Iwaizumi knew that more than well, because it was the same for him too.  

As his vision was starting to go fuzzy at the sides, Oikawa shut his eyes, drowning in the hot feeling of Iwaizumi’s hungry mouth on his skin. When he started to suck a bruise right above his collarbone, Oikawa gasped, but not a single breath of air was able to reach his lungs. His brain was a blurry mess of vodka, lust and lack of oxygen, and his nails were digging into Iwaizumi’s back, leaving deep red scratches. When he thought he was really about to faint, Iwaizumi abruptly released his neck, slamming him onto the couch like he was handling a rag doll. Oikawa breathed so much air in one go that his vision went completely white.

Oikawa managed to take just a couple of deep breaths before Iwaizumi was on him again, squeezing their naked bodies together. The feel of their bare cocks rubbing against each other was making Oikawa burn, tightening his gut dangerously. He knew he couldn’t take much more before he exploded.

“I need you inside me. Now!” Oikawa begged, voice low and thick with need.

Iwaizumi cupped Oikawa’s face with both his hands, his grey eyes so darkened by lust it was like looking into a bottomless pit. He kissed him, sucking his tongue into his mouth hard, making clear how much he was craving him too. Iwaizumi stroked a hand behind Oikawa’s back, sliding his insanely talented fingers into him with no hesitation. Oikawa instantly grabbed at him, biting hard on Iwaizumi’s tensed shoulder at every movement he was feeling inside him. The fact that Iwaizumi was taking his time to do things properly, despite their urgency, was at the same time a blessing and a torture. Oikawa was so drunk with alcohol and him that he could have taken it raw, he didn’t care as long as Iwaizumi was inside him.

He wanted Iwaizumi to fill him to the core, to be fucked hard like he and only he was able to. He needed a proof that Iwaizumi still wanted him, that everything could be saved, that their chemistry was still there, that they could love each other and be together again.

A loud moan coming from both of them filled the room as Iwaizumi’s fingers were replaced by his cock. A sharp jolt of pleasure mixed with pain ran up Oikawa’s spine, making his whole body hum with pleasure. Oikawa felt Iwaizumi tremble above him, his strong muscles rippling under his flawless caramel skin, eyes nearly rolling back as he started to pound harder and deeper into him. It felt so familiar and so new at the same time. It was like each one of his powerful thrusts was erasing a mistake from the past: Oikawa atoning for having walked away, Iwaizumi for being too stubborn to follow him.

Their mouth were still together, pouring with hunger and desperate groans, lost in the sheer onslaught of passion that was tangling their bodies together.

Oikawa arched his back painfully on the couch seat, wrapping both legs around Iwaizumi’s waist and slamming back against his cock. In the movement, his body clenched even harder around him, in a tight squeeze that made Iwaizumi cry out loudly.

“You…” Iwaizumi said, snapping his eyes open and locking them with Oikawa’s. “You are mine,” he panted against his mouth. There was a twist of something that could have been equally concern or disbelief in his voice, so much that Oikawa wasn’t even sure if that had been a question or not.

“Yours. Only yours,” Oikawa pleaded between the moans. “Always.”

The words went straight to Iwaizumi’s cock, which Oikawa felt pulsing inside him. Oikawa grabbed the armrest above his head to have more leverage, but Iwaizumi hand immediately held his wrists together with an almost predatory move. Then he pushed into Oikawa even more, fucking him so hard that both their voices rose in an endless scream.

Everything was too much. The way Oikawa’s entire body was buzzing from something more than just the alcohol, every shift of Iwaizumi’s fingers across his overheated skin, every tickle of his scruff brushing against his cheek, the almost feral way they were ravaging their bodies. He couldn’t take it anymore, and let the knot that was aching inside his gut suddenly explode.

With a wrenching scream, Oikawa came hard, losing all the strength in his body but never releasing the grip around Iwaizumi’s hips. He was still pounding into him, if possible even more violently. His moans stumbled into nonsensical words, hissed harshly between the bites into Oikawa’s neck.

“Come, babe, come…” Oikawa sensually growled into Iwaizumi’s ear. He barely had to squeeze his inner muscles to make Iwaizumi’s voice quiver and, finally, break. A wild, ragged moan erupted from his throat as he came inside him with a couple of bone-jarring thrusts, still digging his nails into Oikawa’s wrists, riding out of his orgasm until he crushed above him, still spasming.    


In the mind-blowing aftermath, the only thing Oikawa was able to feel was Iwaizumi panting against his chest, his forehead dropped right above his still hammering heart. He wanted to say something, but he still was unable to articulate a proper thought, let alone make sense of what just happened between them. He let out a deep breath instead, planting a soft kiss on top of Iwaizumi’s head.

Snorting, Iwaizumi pulled himself out and away from Oikawa. He sat on the couch, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. They were sat next to each each other, their skin still hot and sticky between their intertwined legs, but to Oikawa it felt like Iwaizumi was suddenly a million miles away from him.

“I’m really tired,” Iwaizumi said standing up and walking away, voice low and dry. “I’m going to have a shower and go to sleep.”

“Iwa-” Oikawa tried to protest, but Iwaizumi cut him off.

“You can have one too when I’m done. Goodnight.” He closed the bathroom door behind him, without a single look back.

Well, fuck.

Oikawa was paralyzed by that sudden turn of events. For a moment he really thought everything was finally fine again, but now it felt like their bubble just burst, leaving him naked, alone and confused.  

A sudden buzz coming from the pile of discarded clothes caught his attention and he stood up to collect his phone from the floor. On the screen there were two messages, both of them from Sugawara.

From: Mr. Refreshing. Time: 3:27 am

_I know you’re having more fun than all of us combined, but you just missed Kuroo and Semi beating the shit out of each other. Hope someone made a video._

From: Mr. Refreshing. Time: 4:42 am

_Bokuto is sleeping at ours, we’re taking him back tomorrow. Don’t worry xx_

Oikawa tossed the phone back on the couch with a sigh of relief. He’d completely forgotten about Bokuto, but was happy to know that someone else had the courtesy to look out for him in his absence. He didn’t have to wonder what could have triggered Kuroo’s violent reaction, Semi’s hungry stare back at the club was enough to make his own jaw clench with irritation. _“Raise a finger to him and for you it’s over”_ were the words Kuroo directed to him, but Semi was probably the one who discovered how serious that threat was. If that was the case, it served him right.

The loud slam of a door made Oikawa startle. He took it as a sign that the bathroom was his to use. He took a shower as quickly as he could, not letting his still fuzzy thoughts overwhelm him again. Stepping out, he noticed that Iwaizumi left a pair of boxers, a shirt and training shorts for him to wear on the sink. A bittersweet smile made its way to Oikawa’s lips at the sight. Even as mad as he probably was, Iwaizumi never ceased to be the considerate boyfriend he’d always been.

Before getting dressed, Oikawa inspected his reflection in the mirror. His body was covered in scratches and love bites, while dark bruises were starting to form on the side of his neck, tracing the spots where Iwaizumi’s fingers had been. Oikawa stroked his skin. It ached at the touch, but not as much as his heart did.

When Oikawa came back, he was surprised to find Iwaizumi in the living room, his gaze lost somewhere in the night outside the window.

“I thought you'd already be asleep…” Oikawa said quietly, stopping in the middle of the living room, not daring to get closer despite his desire to have him in his arms again.

“I thought so too.” The words came out unimpressed and his eyes remained fixed on the window.

“What’s wrong Iwa-chan? Talk to me, please...” he asked, unable to hide the twist of concern in his voice.

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi shook his head in a humorless laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me, Oikawa?” he practically shouted, turning around to glare at him.

“Look, I know, this was -” he started to say quietly, but Iwaizumi cut him off.

“A mistake,” he said with a grimace.

“Everything but a mistake,” Oikawa replied almost immediately, more sincere and determined than ever.

“Listen, I don’t want to embarrass myself any more. I’m not naive: a shag, even mind blowing as this was, won’t change things between us,” Iwaizumi scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. His tone was filled by an indefinable emotion that was more than just anger.

“It won’t, you’re right.” Oikawa took a couple of steps forward with an obstinate but yet encouraging look on his face. “But it can be a starting point.”

When Iwaizumi didn’t immediately respond, Oikawa stepped even closer to get right in front of him. His hands were itching with the desire to cup his face to force eye contact, but he just clenched his fingers into fists, nails painfully digging into his palms as Iwaizumi was still avoiding his stare.

“I missed you Iwaizumi, you can’t even imagine how much. And I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I was a selfish idiot, I should never have left you,” Oikawa continued, carrying with his words all the affection he couldn’t show with his body. “I was serious earlier when I said I was yours, and I want to be yours, forever. If there’s a single chance, a single spark of hope and love inside you...let me make it up to you, let me try to fix the mess I’ve made.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes briefly, like he was letting the words absorb into him. Oikawa was overwhelmed by the conflicted look that was washing over his face, seeing a glimmer of hope in it. He took a final step to close the gap between them before grabbing Iwaizumi’s face in his hands.

“Please, Iwa-chan…” he whispered, dropping his forehead against his, eyes burning with unreleased tears. Iwaizumi didn’t recoil and let his arms finally fall, resting his trembling fingers on Oikawa’s hips.

Oikawa dragged his eyes back to stare at Iwaizumi’s still swollen and bruised lips. He hesitated for a moment before joining their mouths into the ghost of a kiss. Iwaizumi’s lips parted, quivering as he kissed him back.

Oikawa poured all his devotion into that kiss, as if thousands of year had passed since their last one. His heart bloomed with intense joy and, even if Iwaizumi still hadn’t said a word, he knew they could make it. He knew that he wanted it too.

“I love you,” Oikawa said between the kisses. “I love you,” he echoed, hugging him close. “I love you.” Oikawa felt like he couldn’t stop telling him how much he loved him, now that he was free to say it out loud again.

“I understood the first time you said it...” Iwaizumi murmured, shaking his head. His eyes were still a little huffy, but the corner of his lips were turned up in a soft smile.

“I’m gonna repeat it until you finally believe me again.” Oikawa nodded, his gaze still earnest and unhesitating.

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows slightly and watched Oikawa, intertwining their fingers together. “Let’s go now…” he sighed, tilting his head towards the bedroom.

Oikawa followed him for a couple of steps before stopping abruptly. The mental image of what was nearly happen that night with Bokuto hit him like an arrow in the middle of his back, cutting his breath off. The thought occasionally still haunted him, but now he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He had to tell Iwaizumi, before it was too late.

“What?” Iwaizumi’s eyes flicked uncertainly over Oikawa again.

“There’s something I need to tell you before….before everything,” Oikawa replied faintly, failing to keep his voice neutral. The guilt was already painted all over his face.

“Oh no. No, please, no. You can’t be serious.” Despite his words, he was looking totally unsurprised by the news he thought Oikawa was about to tell, and that stung painfully in Oikawa’s already aching chest. “Who is he?” He hissed, releasing their hands with a sharp tug.

“Bokuto...” Oikawa said in less than a whisper, dropping his head down, ready to take whatever reaction his sincerity spree was about to deliver him.

“WHAT?” Iwaizumi barked at him, narrowing his eyes. He shook his head exhaling a sharp breath and abruptly fisted Oikawa’s shirt, slamming him against the wall. There was nothing sensual this time, Iwaizumi was just moved by the purest form of anger. “Get the fuck out of here before I murder you!” he said, dangerously low. He was furious, but in his eyes Oikawa recognized another type of emotion: betrayal.

“Fuck, no! Wait. I just slept with him!” Oikawa tried to protest, realizing too late he was making things even worse with that absurd clarification. Iwaizumi pushed him against the wall once more before throwing him towards the door.

“But no, no, no. Not in that sense!” Oikawa hurried to say, words piling over each other in a confused mess. “We didn’t have sex, ever! Like just sleeping, in the same bed. And we spooned. Once. And I just...almost kissed him. But that was before the sleeping part and nothing happened, it was just a thought that crossed my mind, one night that-”

Iwaizumi burst out laughing so hard it cut Oikawa off. It was a loud, genuine laugh like the one Oikawa was so used to hearing back in the day, when they were together. It was the laugh Iwaizumi reserved for his most ridiculous remarks. “You are unbelievable Shittykawa,” he said, looking amusingly disappointed.

“No, don’t laugh! It was good before, you’re supposed to be mad at me!” Oikawa whined, opening his arms in frustration.

“I was, because I thought you just cheated on him with me.” Iwaizumi shook his head with a frown. “But you _almost_ kissed him and then just spooned. How lame is that? I’m quite disappointed in you, to be honest.”

“Fuck you Iwa-chan, don’t question my seduction skills,” Oikawa said, crossing his arms and looking genuinely offended. “And, by the way, I would have cheated on you, not on him!”

“This doesn’t make any sense, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said, walking over and looping both his arms around Oikawa’s hips. “Listen to me, I don’t even want to know why you ended up in a situation like that, but...you’re here now, with me, right?”

Oikawa looked at him for a long moment, tracing his features with his eyes and nodding in agreement. He had to drop his gaze down at the space between their bodies before he became too lost in those endless steel grey eyes.

“...and I do,” Iwaizumi said, gently pulling Oikawa’s chin up, so that their eyes could meet again. “I do want to try again. Why would I care about the rest?”

Oikawa couldn't help the trace of a smile that was spreading widely on his lips, relief and happiness undeniable in his eyes. Iwaizumi was saying the words that Oikawa had dreamed he would say again someday. In that moment, it felt like life finally made sense again.

It felt like home.

A faint smile crossed Iwaizumi lips in return and this time he didn't stop himself from reaching out and extending his hand, brushing his fingers lightly along the side of Oikawa’s face, who subtly leaned into the touch.

“I missed you so much.” Oikawa’s voice came out as a broken cry and he felt like his chest was about to explode, overwhelmed by the emotional rollercoaster he just went through.

“I missed you too,” Iwaizumi said, not looking away from Oikawa’s face.

Oikawa reached over, curling his fingers over Iwaizumi’s hand, his thumb softly brushing against his skin. “What?” he asked with a frown, as he saw him twisting his expression, as he was fighting to keep a straight face.

“I keep thinking about you and Bokuto and I can’t stop laughing, what the fuck!” he said, letting the rumbling chuckle free to erupt from his chest.

“Can you believe he was the one who turned away?” Oikawa sighed, rolling his eyes to conceal the fond amusement.

“Do you really think that Bokuto would give his first kiss away like that? To you, above all?” Iwaizumi pulled away a little, looking at him with a questioning smirk.

“First of all, that’s exactly what _you_ did,” Oikawa said offended, tapping a finger on his chest. “Second, I didn’t know the guy had like no experience...at all. Third, how do you know about that?”

“It’s an ace thing...we know things just by looking at each other.” Iwaizumi shrugged, releasing him from his embrace and starting to walk towards the bedroom.

“No, you’re not getting away like this! You have to tell me now!” Oikawa chased him, tugging on the back of his shirt to make him stop.

“Never! This is the price you are gonna pay for having almost cheated on your ex boyfriend.”

“Rude, Iwa-chan,” he said, squeezing Iwaizumi’s hips and dropping his forehead against the base of his neck. He inhaled deeply, breathing in all his scent.

“You are so ridiculous,” Iwaizumi snorted, lacing their fingers together.

“But you still love me,” Oikawa murmured, giving a sidelong glance at the window in the living room. Where earlier that night there was nothing but darkness, now a bright red sun was rising. Oikawa smiled against his skin, hugging him closer, and Iwaizumi’s fingers tightened against his in response.

“Sadly, I do,” he sighed and, even if Oikawa couldn’t see him, he knew Iwaizumi was smiling too.

  
  
  
**_'Cause if the whole world was watching I'd still dance with you_ ** _/ Drive highways and byways to be there with you / Over and over the only truth /_ **_Everything comes back to you_ ** _\- This Town, Niall Horan_


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And maybe that’s what it was all about, learning to love and be loved in a complete different but still pure and unconditional way.

“Was all of that really necessary? I feel like I’m walking beside Leonardo fucking DiCaprio.”

“You don’t understand. Here I’m more famous than Leonardo DiCaprio,” Bokuto said, sliding his black Wayfarer shades down his nose, furtively looking around. He was wearing an oversized dark sweater, hiding his signature black and silver hair under a cap. He pulled up the hood too, just to be sure.

“You look swaggy, _Bro_ kuto,” Oikawa chucked, looking at him in barely concealed amusement.

“Shut up, Oikawa,” Bokuto snorted, pushing the main door of the Fukurodani Academy open.

The hall was completely deserted, as they expected it to be. A faint background noise was coming from the gym, where the first official volleyball match of the season had just started. The large room was dominated by a picture of impressive dimensions, and in the display case under it the gold National’s Cup was secured, shining brightly under a set of little lights.

As if driven by an unknown force, Oikawa stepped closer to the picture, widening his eyes in awe. Bokuto was looking more majestic than ever, lifting the golden cup up in the air, lips parted in what for sure had been his loudest shout of joy. All his team was around him, cheering and hugging each other under a colorful rain of confetti. More than Bokuto himself, what intrigued Oikawa the most was Akaashi. The setter was exactly where Oikawa supposed he would have been, right next to Bokuto, but his pose and expression were completely different from all the others. Akaashi’s hand was clinging on to Bokuto’s side, almost hugging his hip, while his eyes were firmly pinned on his captain’s face. A keen eye would have noticed that his was more than a look of pride, it was a true look of love.

Oikawa smiled softly at the scene. He wondered how he would have looked, with a cup in his hand and all the Aoba Johsai screaming by his side in an explosion of white and mint green. He wondered if Iwaizumi would have looked at him the same way Akaashi was looking at Bokuto. Probably not, because his deep steel eyes and the extent of his feelings toward him were just incomparable. He and Iwaizumi were more than just lovers and friends, they were partners, on and off court.

“You were so beautiful,” Oikawa said, as he felt Bokuto stepping behind him.

“I know.” Bokuto smiled bitterly, his eyes betraying all the longing he was feeling inside.

“Let’s go, we’re late enough now.” Oikawa nodded and started walking in the direction of the gym.

Bokuto hesitated for a moment, gaze still lost somewhere on the picture. He just sighed deeply, before joining Oikawa with a couple of wide steps, guiding him towards the entrance and far up to the bleachers.

When they reached their seats in the top corner, the game was already in full swing. Fukurodani was already four points ahead, but still Bokuto was following the ball with clear apprehension. He was leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his face between his hands, foot tapping lightly on the ground. Oikawa had never seen him that tense before. He even started to think that in the whole range of Bokuto’s emotions tension wasn’t contemplated, but maybe it was reserved just for situations that didn’t involve him personally; situations he couldn’t actually fix if something went wrong.

It was a strange feeling, being back to watch high school volleyball matches. The smell, the loud cheering, the eyes of the first years...everything felt sadly familiar and foreign at the same time. Oikawa never went to see the new Aoba Johsai, but being there again woke a strange sense of nostalgia in him and he suddenly realized how much he was actually missing them. He wondered how Yahaba, his designated legacy, was doing, if he managed to keep Mad Dog at bay, if Kindaichi and Kunimi matured a little bit, if Watari was still obsessed with Nishinoya and vice versa.

A loud cheer made Oikawa’s eyes snap back to the court and that’s when he first saw him. Akaashi was under the net, screaming encouragement to his teammate who was about to serve. And damn, in person he was even more beautiful than Oikawa expected him to be, no wonder Bokuto was that whipped. Beside the looks, he seemed to be a good setter too, a fast thinker, with good game sense and fully aware of all the people that were playing with him. But still, Oikawa sensed that something was off in him, in the way he tossed and, most of all, in the way he reacted when the spiker smashed the ball down on the ground. Rather that satisfied, he was actually looking disappointed, or even slightly annoyed.

Oikawa turned his head to watch Bokuto, who was now following the game with narrowed eyes and a deep frown.

“I know,” Bokuto said, like he’d just read his mind.

Of course he knew.

Point after point, two sets passed in a blur. Fukurodani won, but that didn’t come as a surprise. Akaashi’s attitude didn’t change for the whole game though, not even when all the boys gathered around him to celebrate their very first victory. For a completely renewed team made up mostly of first years, it was for sure a great accomplishment, but their captain graced them with just a hint of a smile before rushing to the locker room. Oikawa was genuinely confused.

“What’s wrong with him?” Oikawa asked, as he watched the crowd slowly leaving the gym. God knows how, but luckily no one spotted Bokuto.

“That’s not my Akaashi,” Bokuto stated, folding his arms across his chest.

“It was his first game as a captain and with people he barely knew, maybe he was just a bit too nervous.” Setter to setter, Oikawa felt the need to justify him, knowing more than well the weight Akaashi had to carry on his shoulders.

“Have you seen his eyes? It was like he was moving by muscle memory but he was not fully there. Something happened, I have to see him, _now_.” Bokuto stood up abruptly and, in the blink of an eye, he was already running down the stairs.

“Wait!” Oikawa shouted, following him as fast as he could. When he was finally within reach, he tugged sharply on Bokuto’s sweater, making him almost stumble. “You can’t go now, you hothead! The game just ended, you can’t make a scene in front of the rest of the team!”

His words didn’t have the desired effect and Bokuto just kept running, easily freeing himself from Oikawa’s grip. But, instead of storming out of the door, he started running laps around the empty court, with Oikawa still after him. When Bokuto stepped past the box of volleyballs, he stole one, making it bounce on the ground while still running, like he was playing basketball. When he reached the center of the court, he threw the ball in the air and spiked it down in a powerful and almost perfect ace serve.

“Hey hey hey! The king is back!” he thundered, opening his arms and throwing his cap away in excitement. He jumped around a couple of times more, before crashing down on the ground.

Oikawa couldn’t believe the scene he just witnessed. Out of words and breath after that foolish chase, he sat down next to Bokuto, both of them harshly panting but still smiling widely.

“I missed this place,” Bokuto said, flipping on his stomach and starting to draw little circles with his fingers on the the floor.

“I figured,” Oikawa exhaled, shaking his head but, at the same time, glad to finally see an extreme up in Bokuto’s mood swings.

“Oi?” Bokuto called him, after a stretch of time in which their breaths finally evened out again.

“What’s up?” Oikawa turned to look in his direction and he noticed he had sat up too in the meantime. But there was something strange in his eyes, a hint of something dark that made Oikawa’s gut instantly twist with concern.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” Bokuto said in an almost broken voice, jumping forward into Oikawa’s arms.

Oikawa instinctively held him close in a baffled embrace, like he was dealing with a scared  child. “For what?” he whispered softly against Bokuto’s hair.

“For everything,” he said, face hidden in Oikawa’s neck and hands clinging to his shirt. “But most of all I’m sorry that sometimes I made you feel that to me you were just a replacement for Akaashi.”

The hand that was idly playing with Bokuto’s hair froze immediately. Oikawa looked down at him, but he couldn’t find a single word to say. He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t, because it was true. But that feeling belonged to the past, to that dark time in which both of them were too lonely, too desperate and too confused to even make sense of the life they found themselves in. Everything happened too fast and too soon, it was a miracle they made it this far, that they actually managed to find an almost healthy balance in their dysfunctional relationship. And now that Iwaizumi was back and hopefully Akaashi would be too, things could only get better, he liked to believe that.

He wasn’t a temporary fix anymore. And maybe that’s what it was all about, learning to love and be loved in a complete different but still pure and unconditional way. Not because of the blinding attraction, but just for the human being they were.

“It’s true that I’ve always wanted him and just him. But maybe there were other things both of us had to find, before finding the ones we love again...and I’m glad found I you,” Bokuto continued, sensing that Oikawa would have probably never answered otherwise. He raised his head and met his eyes fully. Oikawa was happy to find no tears in them. “You’re a really good friend, Oikawa. Probably the best friend a person could ask for. I owe fate one for making us cross paths.”

“I...I…” Oikawa tried to say, but Bokuto placed a finger in front of his lips to shush him.

“Don’t say anything and, most of all, don’t cry! We cried too much already,” Bokuto laughed. His usual loud and contagious laugh.

“Fuck you, sappy ass,” Oikawa said, slapping his finger away from his face. “You gave me all this emotional speech like we were about to part ways forever, while we are legit still living in the same apartment!”

“You know, I live for the dramatics.” Bokuto smirked with a mischievous raise of his eyebrows.

“I know…” Oikawa snorted, standing up and pulling Bokuto up too in the process. “It’s time, now go get your prince, I’ll be at home by the time you get back,” he said, placing a comforting hand on Bokuto’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“You better!” Bokuto winked, making his way to the exit door. But when he was about to open it, he hesitated. “Oikawa?” he called, looking back over his shoulder.

“Yes?” Oikawa answered, folding his arms across his chest and watching him with his head tilted to the side, sensing the bullshit he was about to say.

“Fuck you too!” Bokuto grinned and rushed out of the door before the shoe Oikawa threw at him could hit him directly in the face.

 

=

 

Even if it felt like he spent an entire lifetime in there, by the time Oikawa left the Fukurodani Academy the sun was still up, shining bright in the cloudless early afternoon sky. A little crowd made of parents, friends, students and volleyball players was still hanging around in the front yard, enjoying the carefree atmosphere the victory had created. Walking by, he caught some random comments and praise, he even heard someone saying Bokuto’s name, but he didn’t stop to investigate. Overall, their excitement was so contagious it made Oikawa smile by reflex.  
  
Among all the people, he recognized a familiar figure standing in the backlight by the gate.  
  
“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa ran to him, immediately wrapping his arms around his waist.  
  
“Hey ugly,” Iwaizumi greeted him, lightly brushing their lips together. “How did it go?”  
  
“They won!” Oikawa said, rubbing the tips of their noses together. Since they got back together, their level of sappiness had reach levels unknown before. They looked like teenagers in their first love experience…and, to an extent, they really were.    
  
“Who cares about the match!” Iwaizumi scoffed, pulling his face away a little but never releasing him from his tight embrace.  
  
“Oh, I don’t know, Bokuto just went to him, we’re gonna get some news tonight…” Oikawa said, his mind already running over the possible outcomes. He really, really hoped everything would go the best way possible, even if that meant Bokuto not letting him sleep the whole night, telling him countless times every single detail of how he finally confessed his love to Akaashi and, guess what, Akaashi really loved him in return.  
  
“If he comes home tonight…” Iwaizumi raised both his eyebrows in a mischievous way, implying a turn of events Oikawa didn’t even dare to imagine.  
  
“Oh, thank you Iwa-chan, now I want to wash my brain with hot lava to erase that mental image.” Oikawa covered his eyes and shook his head, trying to get rid of all the thoughts that were starting to crowd his mind.  
  
Iwaizumi laughed and pulled him closer in response. “What are you doing now?” He asked, nuzzling a bit in Oikawa’s neck, leaving an invisible trail of kisses on his skin.  
  
“You,” Oikawa smirked, tracing the curve of Iwaizumi’s strong arm with his finger. He felt him shiver under his touch. Good, very good.  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, placing a strong but still chaste kiss on his lips. “Let’s go then.” Iwaizumi intertwined their fingers and pulled him a little, starting to walk away.  
  
Oikawa turned for just a second to look at the Fukurodani Academy that was towering behind them. The sun directly hit his face, but he didn’t even squint. He just took a deep breath in, bathing in the warmth that was starting to spread on his skin.  
  
Everything was so calm inside him it was almost surreal. It was a strange sensation, like everything in his world was finally falling into place, the gears starting to work together, putting his life into motion again. He was invested by a warm wave of faith, in himself and in a different future, for him and for all the people he loved.

In that golden sun, Oikawa was feeling invincible and he finally realized that, among everything, the most important thing Bokuto had taught him was how to truly be a lover of the light.

  
_And in the middle of the night / I may watch you go / There'll be no value in the strength / Of walls that I have grown / There'll be no comfort in the shade / Of the shadows thrown /_ _You may not trust the promises / Of the change I'll show / But I'd be yours if you'd be mine /_ __  
__  
_So love the one you hold /_ _And I'll be your goal / To have and to hold_ _  
_**_A lover of the lights_**

  _ _\- Lover of the Light, Mumford and Sons__

 

 

p.s. want to know how things went between Bokuto and Akaashi? Then read **[Golden](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8255203)**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to the two people who are always by my side while I write:  
> Sarah, who had to learn everything about all these characters (and even started watching Haikyuu) just to be an even more amazing beta.  
> Ann, who actively helped me in the creative process and gave me so many useful feedbacks, reading inconsequential and often raw bits here and there.  
> Thank you for loving Bokuto, Oikawa, Akaashi and Iwaizumi as much as I do. You were amazing.
> 
> And, of course, thanks to all of you for reading this! As always, kudos and comments are more than welcomed! I'd love to hear from you :)
> 
> And if you want to talk to me, come find me on tumblr [@blackandorange](http://blackandorange.tumblr.com/)


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